As the Clocks Strike Thirteen
by smoggylondonair
Summary: When Rose and the Doctor inexplicably land in an alternate London that eerily resembles the book 1984, they must investigate the catalyst that led to the existence of this universe and avert it before it spreads to their own.
1. The Year 1984

All throughout London, every day at 11 o'clock in the morning, there were two minutes of hate. That was the way it was. Throughout every Ministry in the city, in every home for the mothers and small children; on every telescreen throughout Great Britain and Ireland, and, indeed, all of Oceania. That was the way it was. It was how it had been for almost 34 years.

Large, pyramidal buildings dominated the now decrepit London skyline. The London Eye was absent, as was 30 St Mary Axe, and almost every other structure that defines a view of London as we know it today.

Everywhere a person went, he or she was watched. Children informed on their parents, and their parents would not dare speak out against the government for fear of their children overhearing.

The government was in control. You know this story. But what you don't know is that this world could have become our reality; at least if you live in Britain, Ireland, or the Americas. George Orwell wrote about it with the fear that our world would become like this. In a way, his fear was rational. It never happened in the universe we know. It happened in another, however.

What George Orwell did not know was that when he penned his book, it would not serve as a warning in this alternate universe. It would serve as a model for society.

If you stood close to the site where 30 St Mary Axe would one day stand in the universe that we live in, you would hear a noise, a noise indistinguishable from the hustle and bustle of the city unless you knew what it was. If you stood on the street the building is named for and stared straight at the empty lot, you would see something. You might not be able to tell what it was at first, but as it slowly came into focus, you would see it:

A 1950s Police Box. And then, if you stuck around, you would see the door slowly open and a head peer out, followed by English words.

"Doctor, where the hell are we?"


	2. The Book 1984

Rose Tyler peered out of the TARDIS and looked around. They'd set a course for directly outside 30 St Mary Axe, and it all looked well enough except for the apparent fact that 30 St Mary Axe was, in fact, missing.

"Doctor, where the hell are we? I thought that we were headed for London." Although with her voice Rose contradicted the assumption that they were in London, the street and the view from it were both startlingly familiar, yet eerily alien at the same time. She'd grown up in London, after all; she knew it well. It didn't take her long to realize that although the landscape was almost exactly the same as she knew it, most of the familiar buildings were frighteningly absent.

She stepped out onto the street. There was no bustling, no office workers, and no people to speak of.

"What d'you mean?" came the call from within the blue police box, accompanied by approaching footsteps. "You're—oh." The Doctor emerged beside her and surveyed the landscape. He quickly noticed the four white pyramidal structures dominating the city.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Rose asked quietly. The Doctor, deep in thought, didn't answer. "The book _1984_. It's the same, it's—"

"Eerie," the Doctor finished. "Yes, very."

"Why is it like this, though?" Both were still speaking almost in whispers; the foreboding landscape did not give well to raised voices. "It's wrong. It's like we fell into a different universe or something."

The Doctor had turned back to the TARDIS and was stroking bits of it, trying to find the source of the problem that had landed them there. He didn't look at Rose when his expression darkened and he said clearly, "I think we did."

"But isn't that impossible? You told Mickey and me, when we wound up in that alternate universe; it wasn't supposed to happen."

"It's not." He swallowed. "Something's wrong. Something's very, very wrong."

Rose then asked the obvious question. "Well, what do we do?"

The Doctor frowned. "Well, it's not as severe a situation as last time. The TARDIS still has power-no idea why though—and it's completely functional: no need for me to power it back up. He opened the door and peered inside. "We could get out of here, if you want to, no problem." Although this was a rather pleasant revelation, his brow was still knitted, and sweat slicked his forehead.

"Do you want to stay?"

The Doctor swallowed again. "Perhaps a little investigation is in order," he said neutrally.

"Well, if we have a way back, why not?" Rose bit her lip and looked a bit nervous, but despite the danger that might be in order, she was excited.

The pyramids dominated the entire city, as Rose had always imagined they would. She wasn't strictly a _big_ reader, but she had read _1984_ some time ago. She had never imagined that any part of it was real though. The book had been a warning, not a prediction. Or was it the other way around? She couldn't remember what Orwell's opinion on his work had been.

Now, it was becoming clearer and clearer that with the Doctor, anything and everything was real. Although Rose could sense danger, she had no doubt that he would keep her safe in this parallel universe—he always had. _Always_. As they strolled purposefully up towards Bevis Marks, she reached over and gave his hand a squeeze before moving over to the opposite side of the street. _We can't show affection here. It's a dangerous place. _

"_Allons-y," _whispered the Doctor, a smile playing on his lips. "Off we go. To the Ministry of Truth."

Both were dressed in coveralls the Doctor had dug up from the back of the TARIDS, although they didn't know how closely this alternate London would follow the book. In fact, it was mostly just guesswork. They didn't even _know_ there was a Ministry of Truth. However, on a whim, just to fit in, Rose had added a scarlet sash around her waist. It wouldn't do to be caught wearing something like that while acting affectionate with the Doctor on the street.

A poster bearing Josef Stalin's face along with the heading _Big Brother is Watching You_ alerted them to the fact that they had guessed exactly right.

_This didn't just happen, though, _thought the Doctor. _Someone either gave Orwell all of these details (me?) or they've used his book as a model. It's just too close. _

Across the street, Rose was thinking along the same lines. _Are we going to meet Orwell? Or did they somehow base all this off his book? _It seemed much too twisted for someone to have based an entire society off of a book that was supposed to epitomise a terrible way to run a government.


	3. So This Doctor Walks Into a Bar

When they had first retreated to the TARDIS, the doctor had dug up two pairs of overalls; one black pair, one blue. He had handed the blue over to Rose and she had retreated back into her own dressing room in the TARDIS, while the Doctor just dressed in his wardrobe.

When they both emerged, Rose was curious about what they were going to accomplish on this venture.

"So, what are we hoping to do here?" she had inquired casually. She knew that although the Doctor was being infuriatingly cryptic, it was likely, in all seriousness that the entire multiverse or at least some portion of it was in serious danger. When this occurred to her, she took a moment to think about it. There was rarely a time with the Doctor when _something_ wasn't in some sort of danger. She would probably say that one of the most carefree jaunts they had ever taken was the time that they visited New Earth, and even then there were poor, diseased, never-been-touched, pitiful people chasing after them, threatening to touch and kill the lot of them. In fact, the amount of danger involved had become more ludicrous with every trip.

That was just how she liked it.

The Doctor seemed to have lost a bit of the seriousness that he had had earlier while examining the TARDIS. "Oh, just gotta have a look around, nothing too serious. Find out why the world seems to perfectly mirror the book, then we can just pop back into our universe."

Just then Rose's phone buzzed. She jumped a bit, startled by the sudden noise, and then answered. "Yeah. Sure. I dunno, mum, maybe. Yeah. I'll try. Sure, I'll ask him." She pressed the _END _button and turned to face the Doctor. "My mum wants to know if we'll be back in time for tea."

The Doctor smiled brightly. "Jackie Tyler: the entire multiverse is in flux and she wants to know if her daughter will be back in time for tea. As Mickey would say…"

"…very British," Rose had finished with a chuckle. "The great thing about going around with a bloke who can time travel is that you're _always_ back in time for tea. Mum doesn't have to worry."

"Right you are, Rose Tyler," the Doctor had finished with a smile, and then hooked his arm around hers. "Now, in for a bit of _investigating_?"

"Always!"

Together the two of them skipped gleefully out of the TARDIS; not knowing what was in store, not knowing what lay outside, and definitely not knowing what would become of them, which was how both of them liked it.

Rose stifled a grin by biting her lip. The entire setup was almost comical, and it was a strain to keep herself from laughing. The Ministry of Truth was up to her. The Doctor had given her the psychic paper, for her to get around. He himself was going around the proletariat part of town, asking everyone everything about anything.

"They get you in your sleep," the Doctor had told her. "Therefore, there's not nearly as much danger to us, because where do _we_ sleep?"

Rose hadn't answered this question: it was more or less rhetorical. In the TARDIS of course, which would be hard for them to find. She reached into a pocket and retrieved the Doctor's other gift—her TARDIS key, which would help keep her unnoticeable. Taking a cursory glance around, Rose slipped this over her head and quickly darted into a cubicle while she watched a man censor an entire newspaper.

_Rubbish,_ she thought to herself. _None of this is worth anything. The Doctor's probably miles ahead of where I am. Of course I should have realized that Minitru would be no use. _

Then it occurred to her. _The inner party must have records somewhere. The question is: where? And how do I get to them? _

About a mile away, the Doctor emerged from a former Tube station, sorely regretting handing over his psychic paper. _Rose needs it more than you do, _he reminded himself. The clothes were also bothering him somewhat. He missed his suits and he missed his trench coat. _Janis Joplin gave me that_, he reflected. _Now if only I could wear it. _He thought about perhaps slipping back to the TARDIS and retrieving it, but thought better of the idea. Blending in was essential.

He wasn't wearing the overalls anymore. Once he had formulated his plan, he'd told Rose his thoughts and doubled back to change into prole clothes, which clearly did not include a suit. Of course, he wouldn't be recognized, which would set off alarm bells in any prole, but that was a risk he would have to take.

He strolled into a pub nonchalantly and was met with incredulous stares.

The barman, dumbfounded, accidentally over poured a liter of beer before blinking and closing his mouth. Old men choked on their liquor and sputtered, their dirty white beards showing the stains instantaneously.

"What?" asked the Doctor. "Haven't you ever seen a Doctor before?"

This seemingly innocent statement almost started a riot. Everyone in the pub broke into peals of laughter, a few men actually falling off their chairs and requiring the immediate attention of the only doctor in the room.

Once he had ascertained that everyone was all right, the Doctor was informed of his fatal error. "There are no doctors in this part of town, sir," said the barman, although by clothing style the Doctor was evidently of the same social status as himself. "Haven't been for ages."

"Oh, that's a shame." The Doctor frowned. "Well, I'd like to ask around about…something…if you don't mind. Is that a problem?"

"Not for me. Customers come to me whether there's a nuisance in the pub or not. They can tell you what you want to know or not. I've no problem."

The Doctor thanked him genially and promptly left the pub.


	4. Our City

The Doctor could tell that no one in the pub would be of any use. Alcohol damages the mind, after all. No, if he were looking for worthwhile information, he'd have to seek out clear-minded, old proles. Shopkeepers maybe.

Almost every sight on the horizon made him wince. The buildings; the bombed out, decrepit, overrun state of London; the people; everything. It almost brought him to tears, seeing his favorite Earth city in such a state. He wondered how Rose was faring. She'd grown up in London, after all, she had as much of an attachment to it as he did. Capitalists indeed. The real villains were the people themselves, who had let their beautiful city deteriorate in such a manner.

"They had something beautiful," the Doctor whispered to the sky, "and they fettered it away. Gone. All gone…" Even the faithful, omnipresent clocktower was no longer in existence: perhaps they had taken it down as a slap in the face to the velvet-suited Capitalists. Instead, they had erected in its place a testament to the power of the regime: four ebony-colored pyramids, glittering in the sunlight, with horrible slogans written all over. The Doctor took the idea of 'ignorance is strength' as an almost personal affront. Knowledge had saved him _how many_ times now?

Across town, Rose was making dismal progress. She was weaving her way through the building; picking up papers; blending in and discovering nothing. She'd seen the prole newspapers, the party newspapers, books for both, and any reading material she could get her hands on. Nothing.

She wondered if the characters, too, were real in this world. Anything was possible, and she received her answer just as a man walked by and she heard a voice call "O'Brien! I have this draft of the Newspeak dictionary, 11th edition, that I'd like you to look at." Syme, no doubt, was beckoning.

Rose grinned. Maybe this could be easier than she thought if it was all real, not just the society. As she weaved once more through the building, mind wandering aimlessly, she watched a dark-haired girl maybe ten years older than herself pass by. Just as Rose was saying to herself, _that just might be Julia, _the girl collided with an older man, a few years older than the Doctor appeared. Rose watched, astonished, as the girl slipped him the fateful note and Winston (for of course it was he) returned to his office, fuming.

_Did I really just see that? _Rose asked herself, marveling at her good luck. _So, all I have to do is spy on these two until—oh._

As the Doctor continued footing his way through London, he found himself disgusted and horrified that there were so many people living on the streets without shoes or food or the basic necessities of life. _I'll put this right_, he promised himself. He knew in his heart that when he fixed whatever it was the needed fixing, in all likeliness this universe and these people would cease to exist. Perhaps in some ways not existing at all was better than a pointless existence as a prole, living one's life out and never accomplishing anything, but in other ways, not existing at all was much, much worse. Either way, he could never rectify things completely.

As a few grimy children tripped their way across the street he found himself whispering, "I'm sorry," to every one. There was not enough pity, not enough righteous intendancy, not enough motivation for change to even do a fraction of good here.

He felt a tug at his sleeve, and his stomach dropped at the idea of having to tell someone that he didn't have any money, and no, he couldn't help them, until a voice squealed excitedly; "Doctor!"


End file.
